


Every Dog Has Its Day

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Absurd, Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Relationship, Light Angst, Listen I just took the 'Carisi is an actual puppy-dog' jokes to their natural conclusion, M/M, Or as seriously as it can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 11:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10989645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: Carisi doesn’t believe in magic.And yet when Carisi woke up that morning, he was somehow a dog. It’s now been eight hours, and he’s still a dog. And Carisi doesn’t really have an explanation for that besides magic. Or a curse. Or a really shitty joke of a fairy tale.





	Every Dog Has Its Day

**Author's Note:**

> If there's one thing this fandom just does not have enough of, it's cracky, trope-y fic. So in honor of the season finale tonight, I figured I'd do my small part to help rectify that.
> 
> Set I guess sometime in Season 18, but like, that really doesn't matter here. At all.
> 
> Usual disclaimer: I don't own them, I just get to use and abuse them. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Carisi doesn’t believe in magic.

Like, illusionists were fun to watch and all, but actual magic? It doesn’t exist. It _can’t_ exist.

And yet when Carisi woke up that morning, he was somehow a dog.

It’s now been eight hours, and he’s still a dog. And Carisi doesn’t really have an explanation for that besides magic. Or a curse. Or a really shitty joke of a fairy tale.

At least he’s pretty cute, as far as dogs go, gangly even in dog form, with fur roughly the color of his own hair (he thinks. He got a good sight of himself in the floor-length mirror the previous occupant of the apartment left, but he had forgotten that dogs were colorblind). But he’s still a dog, and that presents a host of problems, including the fact that his cellphone won’t stop ringing, and while Carisi is pretty sure that he saw a YouTube video that showed animal paws worked on touchscreens, he can’t seem to answer the phone.

Not that he’d been able to say anything if he did, but still.

Besides, it’s Lieutenant Benson calling, and Carisi is pretty sure he’s in some kind of trouble for not showing up at work, the kind of trouble that had the unfortunate tendency to bring detectives to his apartment and would probably launch some kind of missing person’s search when they couldn’t find him.

He wonders if he can be charged with filing a false police report for causing a missing person’s manhunt when in reality, he was just turned into a dog.

When the knock sounds on his door, Carisi figures he’s about to find out.

The knock is accompanied by Benson calling, worry clear in her voice, “Carisi? Are you in there? Carisi?”

Carisi whines and lays his head on his paws, hoping that they wouldn’t break down his door. He's  _really_ hoping to get his security deposit back eventually.

Luckily — or not, considering how worried they must be to involve Sonny’s super — Benson has apparently gotten the master key from the building supervisor and lets herself in. Carisi leaps to his feet and barks a greeting, but Benson ignores him, her gun drawn as she quickly clears the foyer and steps carefully into the apartment.

As Benson makes her way through the rest of the apartment, clearing it room by room — and yikes, if Carisi had known that people from work would be going through his apartment, he would’ve cleaned or something — the rest of the squad comes inside. Fin’s hand is resting on his sidearm, but neither he nor Rollins has their gun drawn. Barba is with them and Carisi’s not entirely sure what to make of that, since Barba doesn’t normally come to crime scenes. Not that this is a crime scene. Because no crime has actually taken place.

Except for how criminally hot Barba looked.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that dog’s checkin’ you out, Counselor,” Fin says, unable to keep a straight face despite the seriousness of the situation.

Carisi lets out a _woof_ and quickly looks away, glad that dogs can’t blush. Barba just frowns at him. “I’m pretty sure the dog just misses his owner.”

Rollins, on the other hand, is staring at Carisi with something like confusion or concern. “When did Carisi get a dog?” she asks. “I was just here last week, and he didn’t have a dog.”

Before anyone could answer, Olivia comes back into the living room, frowning deeply. “No sign of a struggle or forced entry. His wallet, phone and keys are all still here.”

“What about his sidearm?” Rollins asks, and Barba looks suddenly like someone’s knocked the wind out of him. Carisi can’t stop himself — he pads over to Barba and nudges him with his nose, trying to communicate that there’s no way he would ever do what Barba is imagining.

Luckily, Olivia saves them all from that line of thought. “His sidearm’s here, too,” she says, frowning at Rollins. “I just didn’t think that needed to be said.”

Rollins holds up her hands defensively. “Well forgive me for needing to hear it,” she says, her accent coming out thicker like it does when she’s upset, and Carisi whines again, though he doesn’t leave Barba’s side, because Barba’s face is still pinched and besides, his hand is resting lightly on Carisi’s head. “Fact is, something happened here, Lieu. Carisi would never just disappear.”

“Not without his cellphone, at least,” Barba says, his voice a little hoarse. “Otherwise, how would he pester me at all hours of the day?”

Fin snorts, and Olivia and Rollins both manage strained smiles, though it’s Rollins who says aloud what they’re all thinking: “Then what the hell happened to him?”

“We’ll have to call it into CSU, see if they can find any physical evidence,” Olivia says, sounding exhausted, and Carisi whines in what he hopes is a ‘no need, just look down here, here I am’ way. Olivia doesn’t seem to notice, but Barba ruffles Carisi’s floppy ears with his hand, and wow, ok, that probably shouldn’t have Carisi’s heart doing backflips in his chest.

Not that his heart should be doing anything when Barba’s just called the occasional texts that Carisi sends him ‘pestering’, but Carisi can tell that Barba’s just trying to make a joke. And besides, Carisi can see the worry that creases Barba’s forehead and it occurs to him that he’s never seen the ADA this concerned. Especially not about Carisi.

He just wishes getting turned into a dog hadn’t been what it takes.

Olivia is giving out orders and Carisi’s stopped paying attention, since he’s clearly not going anywhere. But then he hears Liv say, “...someone willing to take the dog”, and he looks up, alarmed. “He can’t stay here on his own.”

“Well between Jesse and Frannie, I don’t have room at my apartment,” Rollins says, a little reluctantly, and Carisi gives her a doggie smile because he knows that she’d take him if she could — Rollins loves dogs.

Fin just holds up his hands. “No way,” he says. “I like dogs about as much as Barba likes kids.”

Carisi gives Fin a look and Barba rolls his eyes. “I like kids just fine,” he says stiffly. “So long as they don’t touch me or look at me or make noise, at least.” He seems to realize that Olivia, Rollins, Fin and Carisi are all staring at him expectantly and his eyes widen. “Oh, no. No way."

“Well I can’t take him,” Olivia points out evenly. “Lucy’s allergic to dogs, and since she practically lives at my house most of the time…”

She trails off but Barba shakes his head firmly. “If none of you can take the dog, we’ll call Animal Control and let them deal with it,” he says, with a note of finality.

Both Rollins and Carisi give Barba a dirty look, and Carisi has to stop himself from growling, though judging by the way Barba warily withdraws his hand from Carisi’s head, he hadn’t been successful. “Animal control?” Rollins asks. “For Carisi’s dog? They could put him to sleep before we even find Carisi.”

Something in Barba’s expression shifts, and Carisi gets the feeling that Barba’s been trying not to think about how long it may be before they figure out what happened to him. “I thought you said that Carisi didn’t have a dog,” Barba says, a little weakly. “This could just be a stray, or…”

He trails off when Rollins’ expression darkens further. “Fine, I’ll take him,” Barba says, a touch exasperated. “But only because I’ve got a light court load this week. Anything beyond that and the dog has to become someone else’s problem.”

Carisi’s still pretty sure that he’s getting the raw end of that deal, but everyone else is nodding and so Carisi figures he’ll just have to get used to their plan. He had plenty of experience, at the very least, having SVU make decisions without any of his input.

“Are you going to leave him here or take him back to your place?” Rollins asks, and Carisi is suddenly mortified, because he hasn’t given an ounce of thought to what it’ll mean for Barba, unbelievably smart, sarcastic and completely _un_ warm Barba to be the one taking care of him.

“And schlep all the way to mid-town before going into work every morning?” Barba asks, incredulous. “Of course he has to come to my place with me.” He sighs. “He just better be housebroken.”

Without any further discussion of Carisi — the dog, not the seemingly missing person — the group disperses, Olivia on her phone calling in CSU, Fin to go interview some neighbors to see if they saw or heard anything, and Rollins to check Carisi’s phone and laptop for any hint of where he might have gone (Carisi really wants to tell her to avoid the folder on his desktop labelled ‘tax returns’, since there were definitely _not_ tax returns in there).

And then it’s just Carisi waiting patiently at Barba’s feet.

The metaphor would be apt if it weren’t for the look of concern Barba is throwing around the apartment, like he’s trying to memorize every detail — or like he’s trying to project Sonny into the crowded but clean space.

After a long moment, Barba shakes his head and looks down at Carisi. “Come on,” he says reluctantly. “I have to get you back to my place before I head back into work. 1PP, 1 Hogan Place and the Mayor’s Office are going to be all over a missing SVU detective. And the press will have a field day.” 

If Carisi were human still, he’d make a joke, mostly at Barba’s expense, in an effort to cheer him up. As it is now, he can do no more than butt his head against Barba’s leg and whine up at him with concern. “I know, boy,” Barba sighs, petting Carisi’s head again. “I’m sure you miss him, too.”

* * *

 

Barba’s apartment is nothing like what Carisi expected, but then again, Barba did seem to live at work so perhaps he just didn’t see the need to invest in a luxurious space.

Sure, it’s bigger than Carisi’s apartment, but that’s like saying someone’s taller than a midget — it'd be hard _not_ to be. It’s also decidedly not dog-friendly, as Carisi finds out within the first minute of being there, when his overly-enthusiastic tail — which he can’t seem to stop from wagging of its own accord — knocks over a lamp that promptly shatters.

Barba sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can already tell, this is going to be fun,” he mutters.

It’s the last thing he says before disappearing to work for the last few hours of the day, and Carisi supposes that he’s a bit delusional to be disappointed that Barba didn’t at least kiss him on top of the head or something.

Still, he now has free reign to explore Barba’s apartment, and Carisi takes to the task with aplomb, exploring every nook and cranny and reveling in his increased powers of scent.

He explores for so long that he’s startled by the apartment door unlocking, and he barks, his hackles rising. “It’s just me,” Barba says, frowning at Carisi. He’s got a bag from what appears to be a pet store in one hand and a dog collar in the other. “I figured I’d head home a little early and get you settled and take you out since I don’t know what my schedule’s going to look like the rest of week. And speaking of taking you out—”

He steps over to Carisi with authority in his stride and Carisi tries not lean into Barba’s touch as he fastens the collar around Carisi’s neck. “There,” he says, with some satisfaction. “Now you look like you have an owner.”

Christ, Carisi is going to have a _wealth_ of innuendos to remember when he finally turns back into a human. Barba clips the newly-purchased leash to Carisi’s collar and they go for for a quick walk around Barba’s block without incident.

When they get back inside, Barba busies himself by picking a burr out of Sonny’s coat, his lips pursed in concentration. Carisi wants to pay Barba back with a kiss, but Barba seems to catch onto Sonny’s line of thought when he catches sight of the tongue hanging from Carisi’s mouth. “Oh no you don’t,” Barba said warily. “No kisses. I don’t know where that mouth’s been.”

Carisi can almost hear Barba saying the same exact thing under remarkably different circumstances and is again very grateful that dogs can’t blush, or he’d be _screwed_.

Of course, he’s no less screwed by his first meal in over eighteen hours being _kibble_ , though it tastes less bad than he expects. Still, he makes his displeasure known by glaring up at Barba, who chuckles and shakes his head. “Expensive tastes, hm?” Barba asks with an approving hum. “Dog after my own heart.”

Carisi wants to tell him that there’s a difference between having a _discerning palate_ and _expensive tastes_.

He settles for making a snorting noise that could charitably be called doggie laughter.

While Carisi continues to eat the kibble — because he’s not passing up free food, no matter the form — Barba reheats some leftovers for himself and calls Olivia. “Any news?” he asks, his cellphone on speakerphone as he slumps down at the kitchen table, Chinese carton in hand.

“Nothing,” Olivia says, sounding even more exhausted than before. “CSU is still working the scene but hasn’t found anything yet. We’ve called every Carisi relative we can find and every friend he’s got. No one’s heard from him. It’s like he just...disappeared.”

Barba’s looking down at the Chinese food like he’s suddenly realized he’s not actually hungry. “And nothing at any of the hospitals. Or the morgue.”

“No. Nothing.”

Barba sighs. “Alright, Liv. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

He hangs up the phone and stares at the wall across from him, his expression darkening to something worse than brooding. Carisi hesitates for a moment before walking over to him and resting his chin on Barba’s knee. Barba glances down at him and almost smiles. “I’m worried,” he admits, running his fingers over Carisi’s silky ears. “He wouldn’t just take off. But then where is he?”

 _Right here_ , Carisi longs to tell him, but he can’t, and after a long moment, Barba sighs and picks up the container of Chinese food. “Here,” he says, setting it on the ground. “I’m not hungry anymore, so someone might as well eat it.”

Carisi tucks in with gusto, because even two-day-old Szechuan beef tastes better than kibble, and Barba chuckles before making his way into the bedroom.

By the time Carisi’s finished licking every inch of the takeout container, Barba’s reemerged from the bedroom, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, and Carisi stops and stares at him because he’s never seen Barba in casual clothes.

Thankfully, Barba doesn’t seem to notice Carisi’s staring, or at the very least, doesn’t really care that a dog is staring at him. “Alright,” Barba says, faking a yawn. “Time for bed.”

Carisi instantly abandons the takeout container and bounds over to Barba, who frowns at him. “Oh no,” he says, stepping between Carisi and the bedroom. “You get to sleep out here. Preferably on the floor, but I realize I have little control over that.” Carisi sits and gives Barba his best puppy-dog eyes, which has roughly the same effect as when Carisi would try that in person: Barba just rolls his eyes. “Goodnight,” he tells Carisi, patting him on the head and disappearing into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

Though Carisi whines softly, he figures scratching at the door and begging to come in was probably not going to endear him to Barba, so he settles for curling up outside of the bedroom door, putting his head on his paws, and huffing a sigh.

After about fifteen minutes, the bedroom door opens and Barba scowls down at him. “Fine,” he says, stepping to the side to allow Carisi into the bedroom. “But you’re not allowed on the bed.”

Not even fifteen minutes later, Carisi is curled up on Barba’s bed and trying not to gloat at the fact that Barba has snuggled up next to him and is currently snoring into his fur.

Still, as sleep proves far more elusive for Carisi than for Barba, he can’t help but think that while he might’ve wanted to get into Barba’s bed under different circumstances, this is definitely not what he had meant. And as he rests his head on his paws, he can’t help but wish that none of this had ever happened. 

Barba shifts in his sleep and Carisi glances at him fondly. Well, none of this except for the obvious.

* * *

 

Sleep claims Carisi eventually, and he is awoken rather rudely by a shrill alarm that causes him to scrabble against the sheets before sitting bolt upright, trying to remember where he is and what happened and why everything smells overwhelmingly like Barba.

He blinks as Barba’s hand disentangles itself from the sheets and reaches out to smack the alarm clock into silence. “Mnngh,” he mutters, and something in Carisi is thrilled to learn how inarticulate Barba is in the morning. “Oh,” Barba says as he sits up and rubs his eyes, looking exhausted. “Didn’t I tell you that you weren’t allowed on the bed?”

Still, he doesn’t actually seem upset, and since he spent the better portion of the night spooning Carisi and drooling into his fur, Carisi chances giving him a doggie grin. Barba rolls his eyes and stretches and Carisi is definitely not staring at Barba’s t-shirt as it rises up just enough to show a bit of skin.

Barba runs his fingers through his hair, which is sticking up in every direction, and Carisi would infinitely prefer to be able to witness this as a human and not as, you know, a dog.

Of course, when Barba heads for the bathroom, Carisi realizes that there are some things he really shouldn’t witness as either a human or a dog and he hops off of Barba’s bed, scrambling a little on his landing as he’s still not used to having four feet instead of two (not that he was the most graceful on two feet or anything, but still).

Once Barba comes out of the bedroom, mercifully dressed, he gets Carisi some kibble before brewing coffee, and Carisi probably shouldn’t be flattered by that, but then again, Carisi probably shouldn’t be flattered by half of the things Barba says to him and that’s never stopped him before.

He wolfs down the kibble while Barba pours coffee into a travel mug, and by the time Carisi looks up, Barba’s grabbing his briefcase and barely spares Carisi a second glance as he pats him on the head and tells him, “Be good” before disappearing out the door.

For a moment, Carisi just stares at the closed door before slinking over to the couch and jumping up on it. He looks around and spots the TV remote on the coffee table — and that was a surprise to him, yesterday, finding out that Barba owns a TV, because he can’t imagine the man spending an evening just lounging around watching TV — and after a slobbery struggle, Carisi drops the remote on the couch next to him, looking pleased.

It takes five more minutes for him to actually get the TV on, and despite his best efforts, his paws are just too big to change the channel, which means it’s left on some Spanish-language news channel and Carisi is really beginning to regret not taking Spanish in high school because he can’t understand a word that’s being said.

Still, at least it’s soothing enough that it puts him to sleep.

Barba breezes in around 1 and Carisi barely has time to get the TV turned off before Barba can notice and be confused about his skills with a TV. Not that it matters since Barba spends basically the entire time he's home on the phone. “I know that,” he snaps, haphazardly pouring more kibble into the dog bowl. “But Carisi mentioned vacationing there as a kid, and—”

He breaks off, his forehead creasing, and Carisi looks up at him, confused, because he doesn’t remember talking to Barba about his childhood vacations. Of course, he has a tendency to ramble when he gets nervous, and Barba has a tendency to make him nervous, so it’s highly possibly he had mentioned something once.

Barba sighs and leans against the kitchen counter. “I know you’re doing everything you can,” he mutters. “I’m sorry.”

He hangs up and Carisi nudges his leg with his nose and looks up at him, trying to offer whatever reassurance he can, but Barba’s mood doesn’t seem to lighten. “Come on,” he says instead. “Let’s take you out before I have to go back to work.”

After a quick trip downstairs, Barba lets Carisi back into the apartment and takes off without another word, leaving Carisi to do nothing but turn the TV back on, take another nap, and try not to feel guilty for being completely unable to make Barba feel better.

Thankfully, Barba leaves work fairly early, at least for him, and Carisi isn’t too antsy by the time he gets home, though when he smells pizza, Carisi is off the couch like a shot and almost trips Barba when he comes in the door. “Stay down or you’re not getting any,” Barba scolds Carisi, but he’s trying not to smile and besides, the first thing he does is drop a slice of pizza in Carisi’s dog bowl.

After dinner, Barba disappears into his bedroom again, and Carisi cocks his head as he looks at the clock, because it is _way_ too early for Barba to even be considering going to bed. He normally wouldn’t have left the office yet, let alone be getting ready to go to bed.

When Barba comes back out, however, he’s not dressed in his pajamas — instead, he’s put on a bright blue jogging suit and Carisi lets out a snort of something like laughter that garners him a glare from Barba. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s very funny,” Barba snipes, grabbing the leash from where he left it at lunchtime. “Now come on. We’re going for a run.”

Calling it a run is a bit generous, and the human part of Carisi desperately wants to make fun of Barba, to suggest that he can’t keep counting the walk up and down the courthouse steps as exercise. Instead, he settles for letting his tongue hang out as he trots next to Barba.

They run for a lot longer than Carisi expects, long enough that he’s beginning to get worried that Barba might actually be lost. Then, suddenly, he realizes that he recognizes the neighborhood, and he glances up at Barba, confused, because they’re all the way in Carisi’s neighborhood, which at least helps explain why Barba’s breathing as hard as he is.

They pull to a stop in front of Carisi’s apartment building, and Barba bends over, putting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily. Even Carisi’s panting a little bit, because he’s pretty sure that Barba massively underestimated how far away Carisi’s apartment is. But then Barba straightens and looks up at the apartment building.

The look on his face isn’t at all foreign to Carisi, just strange in this context — Barba’s staring at the building the way he stares at the case file of a particularly frustrating case, like if he stares at it long enough, it’ll surrender all of its answers.

Instead, it only gives him Fin, who saunters out of the apartment building and stops in his tracks when he sees Barba and Carisi. “You lost, Counselor?” he asks, clearly amused.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Barba says, to hide his obvious embarrassment. His hand tightens on the leash. “Is there any news?”

Fin sighs and shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says. “I was just stopping by to grab Carisi’s cellphone. Liv wants to clone it in case...well, in case he gets any important calls.” Barba nods slowly and Fin slowly smiles again. “What about you? Needed something for the dog?”

Barba looks down at Carisi like he’s only just remembered that he’s there. “Oh, uh, yeah. That would, uh, that would make sense.”

It’s clearly better than whatever excuse he was planning on offering, and Fin lets him squirm for a moment before saving him by asking, “How are things going with the pooch?”

“Fine,” Barba says, petting Carisi on the head. “Though not fine enough that I’m reconsidering keeping the dog for any longer than seven days.”

“The dog?” Fin asks. “Haven’t you come up with some other name yet?”

Barba just shook his head and shrugged. “It just doesn’t feel right naming someone else’s dog, especially not Carisi’s, since you know he’s come up with some elaborate story behind whatever unfortunate name he’s picked.”

There’s a great deal of fondness in Barba’s voice despite his words, and Carisi looks up at him, his tongue hanging out as he gives him the dog-equivalent of a smile. “Well, with the way that dog looks at you when you talk, you can probably just call him ‘Sonny’,” Fin says with a chuckle.

Barba looks confused by the comment and Carisi glares at Fin, because if this is going where he thinks it’s going… “What do you mean?” Barba asks, frowning slightly.

Fin shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way Carisi acts around you,” he says with a grin, and, oh yeah, this is going exactly where Carisi’s afraid it is. “Why do you think he always volunteers to bring you files or update you on cases and stuff? He’s completely in lo—”

Without warning, Carisi yanks the leash from Barba’s hand and runs halfway down the block in a desperate attempt to keep Fin from finishing that thought. Barba chases after him, shouting something incomprehensible, but Carisi’s not listening, instead focusing on putting as much distance between himself and Fin as he can.

When he turns back into a human, he’s gonna have a _long_ discussion with Fin.

When Barba eventually catches up to him, his face is red, and Carisi can’t tell if it’s from running after him or from the conversation with Fin. “What was that about?” Barba huffs, grabbing the leash, and Carisi gives him what he hopes is a suitably apologetic expression. “Well whatever,” Barba sighs. “This was a waste of a run, and I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” He tugs on the leash and pulls out his cellphone. “C’mon. I’m getting an Uber — there’s no way I can run all the way back.”

The trip back to Barba’s apartment is uneventful and quiet, and when they get back inside and after Barba has showered and changed, Carisi pads into his bedroom and jumps up on the bed. Barba doesn’t even bother telling Carisi that he’s not allowed on the bed, instead sighing and leaning against him while he scrolls through something on his phone. 

After a long moment, Barba says, “I know I probably need to give you a name, but I can’t call you Sonny. After all, he’s coming back and then it would just be confusing.”

Carisi huffs a sigh of agreement and closes his eyes, as worn out as Barba from the run, and as he closes his eyes, he hears Barba saying, more to himself than to Carisi, something almost hopeless in his voice, “He will come back. He has to.”

* * *

 

The next few days pass with no change, and Carisi is really beginning to freak out that he may never be human again. He’s not alone in freaking out — Barba’s mood has been getting steadily worse, and from what little Carisi can overhear of his phone conversations, he’s not alone. Everyone at SVU is on edge, and Carisi’s never felt more helpless.

Still, in between cursing under his breath in Spanish when CSU can’t seem to find any forensic evidence or a potential lead doesn’t pan out, Barba mostly tries to distract himself from assumedly brooding about Carisi and spends a surprisingly large portion of time talking aloud to Carisi, who’s only too happy to listen.

Even if that means he does get a firsthand look at how quickly Barba’s mood spirals from cautiously optimistic when Carisi first went missing into something teetering on the edge of despair.

Barba’s bad mood comes to a head a week after Sonny’s disappearance, culminating in him hurling his precious cellphone at the wall after an apparently upsetting update from Olivia. Carisi sits upright and stares from the phone to Barba, who sinks onto the couch, head in hands.

Carisi whines and hops up onto the couch next to him. “They’re declaring it a cold case,” Barba tells Carisi, his voice strangely hoarse. “Shifting resources to more pressing cases, removing the officers from his apartment. They’re giving up on him.”

Whining again, Carisi presses against Barba’s arms and wriggles his way into Barba’s lap in an effort to distract him, to try to get him to stop talking in that utterly despondent voice. Barba smiles, but it’s fleeting, and Carisi nuzzles Barba’s jaw in what he hopes is a soothing fashion.

He’s surprised and more than a little mortified when he feels wet on Barba’s cheeks and realizes that Barba is crying. He desperately wants to tell Barba not to cry, to tell him that he’s _right here_. Since he can’t, he settles for doing the only other thing that he can think of — he licks the tears off of Barba’s face.

“Gross!” Barba says, shoving him away, but he’s actually laughing a little bit, and Carisi takes that as a win. “That is disgusting,” Barba tells him, wiping the rest of the tears off of his face with the heel of his palm. But then, to Carisi’s surprise, Barba pulls him close again. “Come here,” he says, ruffling Carisi’s ears as he tells him, “You’re a surprisingly good dog. I don’t know if I could have gotten through this week on my own.”

And then he kisses the tip of Carisi’s nose.

And without warning, Carisi’s human again, half-perched in Barba’s lap and mercifully still dressed in the same clothes he had worn to bed a week ago, and Barba’s lips are still pressed to the tip of his nose.

Barba’s eyes get almost comically wide and Carisi would’ve laughed if he weren’t in the middle of freaking out, and they both leap apart as if scalded. “What the _fuck_?” Barba practically shouts, half-risen from the couch and still staring at him.

Carisi holds up his hands almost defensively. “I wish I had a good explanation, but I just woke up one morning and I was a dog,” he says, the words spilling out in a rush, and it feels _so good_ to be able to speak again. “I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know why it happened, but — yeah.”

The ending is a bit weak, but Carisi doesn’t think that Barba’s actually listening to him, still staring at him as if he’s seen a ghost. Slowly, very slowly, Barba leans forward and reaches out to touch Carisi, to make sure he’s real.

Then, without warning, Barba hauls off and punches him in the shoulder and Carisi lets out a particularly high-pitched noise of disapproval. “What the fuck was that for?”

“That was for letting me think for an entire week that you — that you—” Barba can’t seem to finish the thought, and both of his hands curled into fists, though at least he didn’t seem tempted to hit him again. “You’ve been living here for the past week,” he says, slightly calmer, even though it sounds like he’s still trying to believe it. “And yet you somehow didn’t say anything or do anything to let me know what was going on?”

“What did you want me to say or do?” Carisi shoots back defensively. “It wasn’t like I could write a note — I didn’t have hands! And every single time you talked to me about, well, about me, I tried to show you, to get you to see, but…”

He trails off as Barba’s eyes widen again as if he’s just now realizing that he’s spent the last week with Carisi, talking to Carisi about everything, more than Barba has probably told another person in years, and Carisi flushes and looks away. He wants to apologize, to say something, but what is he supposed to say? He has no excuses to offer, and besides, as horrible as it sounds, he’s really not all that sorry.

Sorry for causing his coworkers and Barba to panic, sure. But sorry for getting to spend a week with Barba without constantly fighting to get through the walls that he normally puts up?

Carisi just can’t find it in himself to be sorry for that.

But he figures it’s not a great idea to say any of that to Barba, especially not now. “Look, I’m just gonna go,” he says instead, standing so that he can show himself out.

“Don’t you dare,” Barba tells him, his voice low, and his fingers are wrapped around Carisi’s wrist, holding him in place though Carisi makes no attempt to pull away. For a moment, they just stand there in silence until Barba asks, “What are you going to tell Liv and the rest of them?”

Carisi shakes his head. “I have no idea,” he says honestly. “I, uh, I was thinking I could claim I hit my head and wandered off and have no recollection of where I was or what was going on, and then just...I dunno, came to in the city or something.”

Barba gives him a look. “Do you honestly think they’ll believe that?”

“More than if I tell them that I was somehow turned into a dog and only turned back because you kissed me.”

“Fair point,” Barba says, still watching Carisi like he’s afraid he’s going to disappear.

Carisi shifts uncomfortably and clears his throat. “Listen,” he says, “I know that you’re freaking out, I know I’m freaking out, and I’m sorry for violating your privacy or whatever, and I totally get it if you’re mad—”

“I’m not,” Barba interrupts, and Carisi falls silent, staring at him and waiting for him to continue. “Mad, anyway. I am _definitely_ freaking out, though admittedly that isn’t the terminology I would use. But I can’t exactly blame you for turning into a dog and needing a place to stay.”

Carisi nods and gives Barba a tentative smile. “For the record, I appreciate you letting me stay here.”

Barba snorts. “What was I going to do, let you starve on the street?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you were going to let me go to the pound,” Carisi points out, his smile widening.

Barba smiles as well, just a little bit, though he promptly ruins the moment by muttering, “I think I liked you better as a dog.”

“I think I liked you better when I was a dog, too,” Carisi shoots back, because he can _talk_ again, and he’s got a week’s worth of quips to make up for.

“Is that why you actually behaved yourself when you were a dog?” Barba asks.

Carisi stares at him. “What, you think I would tear up your apartment or something? Give me a little credit, Counselor.”

Barba smiles slightly, and he quietly tells Carisi, “Call me Rafael.”

“I’m sorry?”

“People who have seen me before my first cup of coffee in the morning are allowed to call me Rafael,” Barba tells him. “But if you make a big deal about it, I’m going to revoke your right.”

A grin flits across Carisi’s face and he ducks his head and realizes that Barba’s hand is still wrapped around his wrist. As if realizing it for the first time as well, Barba drops his hand, and Carisi’s embarrassed to find that he misses the warmth. “I, uh, I should call the Lieu. Let her know...let her know that I’m back, I guess.”

“Are you going to tell her that you’re here?”

Carisi hesitates. “I think I’ll have to,” he says reluctantly. “You know they’ll want to come see me. Take my statement and all.”

“Are you going to explain why you’re here of all places?”

“On that, I think I’ll let her draw her own conclusions,” Carisi says, smiling slightly.

But Barba doesn’t smile. “And what conclusions do you think she’ll draw from that?”

A flicker of irritation crosses Carisi’s face, because he’s spent the last seven days by Barba’s side and he thought — well, it didn’t really matter what he thought. “Probably the same conclusion that Fin drew from you going by my apartment.”

Barba’s expression remains impassive. “Fin may have drawn some conclusion about my motivations, but the same can’t be said for yours.”

“What does that even mean?” Carisi asks, because he’s tired and he was so excited to be back in his body and this is honestly the last thing that he needs right now.

“I went by your apartment because I missed you and I was going crazy being able to do nothing to help find you,” Barba tells him, like it’s a simple fact and not something that’s making Carisi’s head spin. “What will Olivia think about this being the first place you went after recovering from your ‘head injury’?”

“That you were the person I wanted to see the most,” Carisi says, and his heart has started beating almost painfully in his chest. “Because if I really had lost my memory and disappeared for seven days, I would want to see you as soon as I remembered.”

Barba stares at him. “But...why?”

Carisi blinks. “If you haven’t figured that out by now—” he starts, but Barba shakes his head, something like a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Maybe I just want to hear you say it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Carisi huffs, and instead of saying anything, he closes the space between him and Barba and kisses him like he’s wanted to for the past week. Well, for the past three years, more like, but especially for the past week.

It takes Carisi a moment to realize that Barba is not pushing him away, has in fact balled one hand in Carisi’s shirt and is pulling him closer while the other rests possessively on the back of Carisi’s neck. That move is enough to have Carisi make a whining noise a little too close to when he was a dog, and both men pull apart, though only slightly.

“I missed you,” Barba says softly, rubbing his thumb against the back of Carisi’s neck, and even though Carisi has spent the past week learning about the parts of Barba that were soft and sweet and not hidden behind barbs and wit, his heart still feels about three sizes too big for his chest to feel it directed at him. “Makes me almost feel bad for all the times I’ve wished you would just disappear…”

He trails off and Carisi laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, well, now you know that you can’t live without me, so I’d say that’s worth it.”

Barba rolls his eyes. “I _can_ live without you,” he corrects him, though his expression softens. “I’m just not sure I would want to.” Carisi’s staring at him as if this, of all the moments throughout the past week, is the one he can hardly believe the most, and Barba shifts slightly. “You should call Olivia,” he says, a little reluctantly.

Carisi nods and makes to stand, but Barba stops him, frowning. “Where are you going?”

“You threw your phone at the wall,” Carisi reminds him. “And I’m pretty sure mine’s in evidence, so I’m gonna have to stand and get your phone so that I can call Olivia.”

“You stay here,” Barba says, a little sternly. “I’ll get the phone.”

Carisi wants to tell him that he was literally only going to cross the room, pick up the phone and come back to the couch, but he has a feeling that Barba just wants to be sure of where he is for a few moments longer. And sure enough, during the 15-second trek to the phone, Barba keeps looking back at Carisi to make sure he’s still there.

He is. Carisi’s not going anywhere. Not yet.

He mentions as such when Barba gets back to the couch, phone in hand. “I suppose after I talk to Liv, I should go home,” he says, aiming for nonchalance and hitting somewhere around reluctant.

Barba’s eyes snap to his and he visibly tenses, though his voice is controlled when he replies, “If that’s what you want to do.”

“Or I could stay here,” Carisi offers.

Barba relaxes just slightly. “If that’s what you want to do,” he repeats.

Carisi thinks of his bed, of the novelty of sleeping on his back again, of drinking a beer and eating something other than kibble or whatever part of his dinner Barba was willing to share and how much he’s missed all of that.

He also thinks about the warmth of sleeping next to Barba, of Barba’s head resting against him, of the disgusting yet somehow endearing trail of drool from the corner of Barba’s mouth.

He thinks about curling up next to Barba as Barba sorts through case files and other work documents, having practically brought his entire office home with him. He thinks about long walks together when Barba found that distracting himself with work wasn’t helping and so would instead try to clear his head. 

He thinks about how much easier things were when he was a dog, how infinitely complicated they’re going to be now that he’s human again.

But then he thinks about Barba’s lips on his, and the soft look in his eye, and Carisi knows that infinitely complicated is going to be more than worth it.

“Fairy tale,” he says out loud, answering his own question from seven days ago and causing Barba to give him a weird look.

“I’m sorry?” Barba asks.

Carisi waves a dismissive hand. “When I got turned into a dog, I assumed it was magic, or a curse, or some kind of fairy tale.”

Barba’s lips twitched. “And you’ve landed on fairy tale?”

“Yeah,” Carisi says, leaning into Barba. “Because I’m beginning to think my transformation was broken by true love’s kiss.”

To Carisi’s surprise and utter delight, Barba blushes. “That’s a topic of discussion for a much later point in time,” he mutters, dialing Olivia’s number on his phone, but when he looks back up at Carisi, he’s smiling. And besides, he never denied it.

“Olivia?” Barba says when Benson picks up, and he reaches out with his free hand to cup Carisi’s cheek as if to remind himself that Carisi really is there, that everything really will be ok. “I’ve got some really good news.”

 And Carisi’s pretty sure he never wants to go home again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You've Got to be Kitten Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12203127) by [Robin Hood (kjack89)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood)
  * [I hate Disney](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885648) by [SonicGavel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicGavel/pseuds/SonicGavel)




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